Available in a size 12 only, these adorable little Stewie sandals are on sale at Neiman’s for 55% off the retail price. And saints and ministers of grace defend us, they’re NOT Gladiators!
I don’t have a problem with gladiators, but I feel their time is coming to a close.
I was fulfilling a social obligation at a club the other night on West Sixth Street. Now let me first establish that I am entirely too cool for regular Sixth Street (a street that can best be described by the phrase “Long Island Iced Venereal Disease”) much less West Sixth Street, which is the same as regular Sixth, but with male pattern baldness.
With the exception of the fortuitous meeting of a friend who works out of the country and only comes back on weekends (and around whom I threw my arms while exlaiming “I hate everyone on this street except for you” which did NOT impress his mutton-dressed-as-should’ve-thought-about-sunscreen-in-their-20’s-cougar friends) I didn’t see a single person I knew or wanted to know.
I did, however, see a LOT of gladiator sandals. When I got to my intended destination, every single girl on the dance floor was wearing a gladiator or gladiator-adjacent sandal. I’m not indulging in hyperbole. It was every. single. one. And they were cute for the most part but –maybe it’s just the contrarian in me– I think if EVERYONE is wearing something, that’s something I don’t want to wear.
The other thing I like about these is they’ve got just a bit of lift to them. I know a lot of girls can’t or won’t wear pancake flats, and a lot of girls can’t or won’t wear heels or wedges. I’d guess this gives about an inch, inch and a half of height which seems like a happy medium.
Isn’t it nice when we can all get together?
These may be the perfect summer sandal. Can wear with sundress? Check. Shorts? Check. Capris? Check.
As to the cougar, speaking as somebody who aspires to the status, your time is coming Missy. I see the cougar as the antidote to the deluge of male colleague I have who dump their wives of 30 years for their graduate students. Nobody bats an eye, but then I have to sit through online sexual harassment training for two hours a year. (I think these guys view it as a how-to guide). Now, this is vile in any situation, but in academic marriages, where a lot the sacrificing and belt-tightening and spouse overburdening happens when young and the academic fame/higher salary comes later, it’s really vile. I sometimes beg my husband of 18 years to let me pretend to be a cougar just to let these old farts know what they are missing out on (older=experienced and mind-blowing, not used up) and how this can be a two-way game.
Can I just rant at youth culture for a second? I was getting my toes done yesterday and I was going through People magazine. Now, I didn’t know who fully 80 percent of the people in there even were (there are far too many “celebrities” now), but then they had their “Best and Worst Beach Bodies.” Speaking of vile, there were one or two guys thrown in, but for the most part, it was the best being “sixteen year-olds with Teri Hatcher thrown in” and the worst being “anybody above 25. What really appalled me was how in general, most of these people looked *fine.* If you have to take photoshop to circle the “lumps and bumps” and put a big arrow pointing to said bumps, then the bumps are frankly no damn big deal.
Well, I digressed. Sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t have fun, but I am so unhip I don’t even know where Sixth Street is or what it is.
Comment by Lisa — July 31, 2009 @ 11:48 am
Oh, and I’m over gladiators, too. I liked them last year, but I’ve never seen a pair fit very well on anybody, and they were too young for me, anyway. I prefer the evolution into cage sandals.
Comment by Lisa — July 31, 2009 @ 11:51 am
Not bad, I like the subtle wedge. These have been my go-to sandals this summer. They’re comfortable enough to walk a few miles a day in and I like how they have enough of a gladiator feel (and yes, I’m sick to death of the literal gladiators as well as the ubiquitous Birkenstock Gizehs as well) to feel fresh, but I don’t think they’ll look dated when I whip them out next summer. Also, faux snakeskin FTW.
Comment by Lex — July 31, 2009 @ 12:54 pm
Love these shoes and adore you even more, Ms. Plumcake. I am with you in gladiator sandal weariness. I hope, however, I live to see the day when independent, older women who don’t feel like staying home alone aren’t mocked and called animal names. Sorry, but I needed to say it.
Still adore you, though.
Comment by Pinky — July 31, 2009 @ 4:09 pm
See, there’s a difference between a hot woman of a certain age (which I hope to someday be) and a woman dressing too young for her age and behaving in a way unbecoming someone old enough to know better. There’s nothing wrong with mutton but it shouldn’t be dressed as lamb.
Comment by Plumcake — July 31, 2009 @ 4:11 pm
Amen, Plumcake; sing it sister!!!
Comment by AmelieWannabe — July 31, 2009 @ 4:20 pm
And Plumcake, I hope when you’re that hot woman of a certain age, people don’t call you names when you have the temerity to go out and enjoy yourself.
Comment by Pinky — July 31, 2009 @ 4:30 pm
I have to say I like the moniker cougar, though. Beautiful….and deadly. And I’m not joking about the “relearning how to dress” thing. You’d be surprised. Much of what Plumcake shares in terms of her taste are, in fact, timeless. But there are a bunch of things that snuck up on me when my hair turned silver. Suddenly, all my staple colors–the ones that served me for years–couldn’t be trusted and had to be re-vetted. I weigh the same but wear different sizes. (WTF?) Just like a wardrobe malfunction you thought you had handled, I swear this self-censoring “I’m a certain age” ability has to be learned. Or else I was badly brought up, which is possible, too. But I am really glad that Tina Turner never learned to dress her age, ya know?
Comment by Lisa — July 31, 2009 @ 6:15 pm
Tina Turner is the exception to every rule — that woman can dress however she damn well pleases.
I know what Plummy’s talking about, though. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any woman of any age going out and having fun and enjoying herself.
But there are women out there who are on the other side of 40 who are dressing like teenagers…and like skanky teenagers, at that. Belly-baring t-shirts with “Heartbreaker” written on them in pink glitter, ultra-low-rise jeans…you get the picture.
Add to that some leathery skin from years of sun abuse, and bleached blonde, long hair with dark roots, and I’m guessing that this is the type of creature about whom Plumcake was speaking. It looks just as sad and desperate as the older male with the combover and gold chains trolling the nightclubs.
Whereas the independent, confident woman who dresses stylishly and with impeccable grooming will be alluring and sexy at any age, and should never be mocked.
Comment by La Petite Acadiene — August 1, 2009 @ 3:35 pm